The Secret Daughter
by PrincessLala95
Summary: It's been eighteen years since the Dragonborn went missing, and now her secret daughter by Ulfric Stormcloak has arrived in Windhelm. Vowing to care for her and do the best he can after missing her entire childhood, Ulfric must now figure out how to be the best father he can be, while his daughter Leola struggles to learn about the life her mother kept secret from her.
1. Chapter 1

The room was silent, but for the crackling of the fire and the howling of the icy wind outside the windows. A large glass of mead in hand, Ulfric's blue eyes were fixated on the wall, lost in thought. From below, there came a crashing sound, followed by the hearty laughter of his men and women, all happily celebrating the anniversary of the Battle for Solitude, when they were finally free from the cruelty of the Empire and the Imperials. Normally, Ulfric would be down there celebrating with them. On this particular night, however, there was a certain heaviness in his heart.

His mind flashed back to this same night, many years ago. It had been the first anniversary of the battle, and he had decided that it should be a night to celebrate and remember. It was a night to honour those lost in battle and to rejoice in the knowledge that they were now free. He had been laughing and drinking with his men when the Dragonborn had arrived.

She had been beautiful, clad in an elegant gown of a deep, rich emerald green with golden embroidery. Her beautiful brown hair hung loose and free in thick, shining waves, and her blue eyes seemed to light up when they met his.

It had been a night he would never forget. Drunk and merry, they had managed to sneak away from the party, making their way up to his room together. With the door locked and barricaded, they had found themselves enthralled in a ferocious night of passion. He seemed to recall at one point, as they basked in the afterglow, joking that she must be more in tune with Dibella than with Talos, which had her laughing comfortably with him and nestling her small figure against his own bulky, muscular one.

He remembered running his hands across her bare body, admiring how soft her skin was, especially for a warrior as fearsome and skillful as she. Even her hands, which spent most hours of the day firmly gripping a sword, were soft and gentle. Her body was slender and her muscles, while defined, were not bulky. As amazed as he had been to first meet her and learn of her skill, he was even more amazed now that he saw the beautiful details of the ferocious warrior's figure. Touching her, she felt delicate, almost breakable – but he knew that, if it ever came to it, she could probably best him in battle easily.

He had awoken the next morning to sunlight streaming in through his window and the beautiful Dragonborn quietly dressing herself. He had begged her to stay a while longer, but she insisted that she had an engagement in Markarth and had to get there as promptly as possible. She promised to return in a couple of weeks, though, which left Ulfric satisfied.

A few weeks passed, and then a month. Ulfric began to worry, sending a courier to Markarth with a letter for Jarl Thongvor Silver-Blood, inquiring as to the Dragonborn's whereabouts. When he was told that she hadn't been in Markarth for quite some time, he began to contact the other Jarls, even going so far as to send couriers to the island of Solstheim. The more time passed, the more worried Ulfric became, as did the rest of the Jarls. They all spoke with the housecarls assigned to the Dragonborn's various homes throughout the province, but none had seen her in weeks.

Ulfric finally gave up hope. All his men saw it the very moment it happened, as a darkness came to his eyes and a certain, permanently pained look on his face. All worried, but none knew what could be done. They were almost certain that the Dragonborn, their beautiful, strong heroine, was dead in some cave somewhere, never to be seen again.

The province mourned the loss of the Dragonborn as rumours began to spread. The merchants, the smiths, the innkeepers, all realized that they hadn't seen her in several months. Flowers were laid at the doorways of her homes, notes pinned to her doors in the hopes that she would come sneaking in one night and see how much the people needed her. If she ever did, though, she certainly never did anything about it.

"My King?" came a voice from the doorway, and Ulfric jumped slightly, pulled harshly from his reverie. His gaze fell upon the steward, Jorleif, who had a frown on his lips.

"What is it?" grunted Ulfric drunkenly, and the steward hesitated a moment before continuing.

"There's a young lady here to see you," he said, and Ulfric found himself perking up slightly.

"A young lady?" he asked slowly, confused.

"Yes. She has a letter, and she says it's very urgent," Jorleif replied, and Ulfric heaved a grumbling sigh.

"Very well," he said, standing and heading to the door. Jorleif turned and headed quickly downstairs, with Ulfric following.

As he made his way through the door and into the throne room of the palace, his soldiers all cheered and greeted him. All were clearly drunk mindless, boisterous and rowdy and singing gleefully. Only Ulfric had his downtrodden demeanour as he followed Jorleif.

The girl had been asked to wait in a side room so that none of the soldiers would harass her – an excellent idea on Jorleif's part, Ulfric thought, for which he would have to commend him later. As he entered and saw her, he found himself overwhelmed with a sudden curiosity. She was young, very young – much too young for him to find her attractive, though when he was her age, he certainly would have. Now, though, simply considering her attractiveness made him feel like a monster. She had long blonde hair that fell in loose waves, running down her back. The front portion of her hair was drawn back in two braids, almost like a crown. She wore a rich blue gown with a loose skirt, a slim bodice, and draping sleeves. The style of the gown reminded him of the beautiful green gown worn by the Dragonborn that night, the last night he ever laid eyes on her radiant beauty. He held back a sigh.

"Madam, may I present Ulfric Stormcloak, High King of Skyrim," said Jorleif respectfully, and the woman gave a curtsey, smiling up at Ulfric. She had beautiful blue eyes, which examined him with a curiosity that seemed to match his own towards her.

"My King," said the young girl in a polite voice, "my name is Leola. My mother sent me, she is sick and wants your help. She asked me to give you this." The young girl held out a folded scrap of paper, and Ulfric tentatively took it in his hands. He opened it slowly, and as he read the scrawled words on the paper, his eyes went wider and wider with each passing word.

_Ulfric;_

_I am sorry. I am sorry that I ran off without telling anyone, I am sorry that I disappeared for all this time. If I could change it, I would, but it is too late now._

_Leola is your daughter, conceived on the last night we spent together before I left. She is an amazing girl, and I hope that you will be proud of her and accept her as yours._

_I am sick, and fearful that my time is running out. After all these years fighting and adventuring, who would think that I should leave the world at the hands of sickness? I am weary and I am weak, and I can barely lift my hand to write this letter. I told Leola that I was sending her to you for help, but I doubt that I will last long enough for you to come here. Tell her to stay with you while you send someone – a courier, perhaps – with the remedy that I need, wait a few days, and then tell her that the courier has returned with news of my death. I do not wish for either of you to see me when I am gone, and I certainly don't want to put either of you through the pain of seeing me as I lay on my deathbed._

_Take good care of Leola. She is smart and skillful, though she has very little real combat experience and I should like to keep it that way. I have worked hard to keep her safe from the perils of our world and I hope that you will continue to do so for me when you receive this._

_You do not have to tell Leola that you are her father if you don't wish to. I hope that you will, for she has asked about you from the moment she could talk. I have told her very little – that her father is a good man, that he would certainly have loved to have met her, and as she grew older, I have confided in her that I was wrong to leave the way I did. It is of her own will that she has not come to meet you – I have offered to send her many times, but she said that she was afraid of upsetting me._

_If you do not wish to take her in, that is okay – all of my possessions have been delivered to Hjerim by a friend of mine, so Leola may live there. I have left her all that I have – armour, weapons, books, gold… _

_If you will do this for me, care for our daughter and accept her, then thank you. I hope you know that I did love you, Ulfric, and it was always an honour to serve you and fight by your side._

_Yours sincerely,  
>Stormblade<em>

There was a long silence as Ulfric reached the end of the letter. He could feel his hands shaking, and he slowly lifted his gaze towards the girl. She looked expectantly towards him, her lips curled downwards as she waited to hear what he would do to help her mother.

"Have you read this letter?" Ulfric asked her slowly.

"No," she answered, and he could see it in her beautiful blue eyes, she was telling the truth.

"Where is your mother?" he asked next. "We must get to her as quickly as we can."

"At our home outside of Falkreath," answered Leola. "I'll lead you there."

Ulfric gave a nod and the girl left the room. He followed quickly, and Jorleif came after them.

"Are you going with her?" he asked.

"Of course I am," Ulfric snapped. "It's….Stormblade, she's ill and dying."

Jorleif's eyes widened at the mention of the Dragonborn. "Should I get something? A potion, a remedy, something for you to take with you?"

"If there was anything, she would have figured it out herself," answered Ulfric. "I just need to see her."

"Are you coming?" came Leola's voice from the palace doors. A few of the drunken soldiers glanced curiously over, and Ulfric held back a growl at seeing the way the men smirked at seeing the blonde woman. He gave her a nod.

"Yes," he called back, and then looked at Jorleif. "Just handle things until I get back."

With that, he turned and hurried after Leola.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: The response to this within just the first day blew me away, so I want to thank you guys for all the follows and favourites! I'd love to hear what you guys think in some reviews, and I also want to let you know that I will consider any and all suggestions that are made regarding future events that you guys think should take place. I intend on this being a long-running story, so there's always room for your suggestions to work their way in. As I've written several chapters ahead of time, it may not happen right away, but if I'm able to work it in, I definitely will. Again, thank you for the amazing response to this story, and I hope you guys will continue to enjoy it!**

It had been a long time since Ulfric had run as quickly as he ran now – of course, it had been years since anything had been so important that he had to run. He entered the cold streets with the young blonde, Leola running ahead of him. It seemed to have sunken in to the young girl now how important it was that they get to her mother, and the guards quickly allowed them to pass through the gates.

A sturdy horse, dark brown with blotches of creamy white, stood near the stables, being stroked by a stablehand until Leola ran up to it and pulled herself on. Ulfric motioned for the stablehand to get him a horse as well, and the young man didn't bother to ask any questions, simply hurried to untie a horse and let it free from the stables. Ulfric hoisted himself up on to the horse's back and in a flash, Leola and her horse had darted off. Ulfric hurried after her on his own horse, catching up with ease.

Neither spoke as the horses galloped along, though Ulfric began to let his eyes wander. He admired the serene and beautiful landscape of his kingdom, and then the way that his daughter's beautiful golden locks bounced and billowed behind her as the splotchy horse's hooves clopped against the path beneath them.

_His daughter… _Yes, this was his daughter. His own flesh and blood, a young woman that he had helped to create. Sadness filled his heart. He hadn't been able to see her life pass by – he hadn't been able to caress the roundness of her mother carrying the infant in her belly, to cradle the baby in his arms and fall in love with those angelic blue eyes. He had missed his chance to help teach the girl to talk, and to let her tiny hands grasp his big fingers for support as she learned to walk. He was certain that he would have been a good father. He would have brought her sweet rolls, kissed her forehead at night before she fell asleep, and held her in his arms when she was upset. He would have taught her to fight, had a special dagger forged for his special little girl, and bought her the most beautiful dresses.

"Your majesty?" came Leola's voice as the horses slowed to a stop, and Ulfric looked into her blue eyes.

"Leola," he said slowly, "you may call me Ulfric."

"Very well, then," she answered courteously, "Ulfric, we should stop and rest for the night before we carry on."

"No, we have no way of knowing whether your mother will still be alive by then," he said sharply, shaking his head. "We'll ride through the night if we must."

"I cannot," said Leola quickly, shaking her head. "I left home yesterday morning and didn't arrive in Windhelm until tonight, I need to rest."

Ulfric paused thoughtfully, then looked at her.

"Where is your house?" he asked.

"On the southern edge of Lake Ilinalta," Leola replied softly.

"Go back to Windhelm. Go to my steward and tell him that I have asked to have you stay in the palace while I am gone. He will prepare a room for you and breakfast in the morning – and supper, for I will not be back until at least the morning after next."

The blonde girl gave him a nervous smile and nodded slightly. "Will you be alright to find it on your own?" she asked him.

"Yes. I know exactly where you mean – I have seen that very house before," he said, and a pang of guilt ran through his chest at the thought that he had passed the Dragonborn's home, where she and her daughter lived completely unaware of how close he was.

"I'll see you in two days then, my King," she said to him. "Please, try to save my mother…and thank you," she said.

"I'll see you in two days, Leola," he replied, and before anything more could be said, he dug his heels into the sides of his horse and they took off at a gallop, heading speedily towards Falkreath.

_Lakeview Manor…_ She had been in Lakeview Manor this whole time and none had thought to look there. Breezehome? Hjerim? Honeyside? Vlindrel Hall? All had been checked. They had searched Proudspire Manor in Solitude, and even Severin Manor, her home in Solstheim, but there was no sign of her, no hint of where she had gone. None knew that Lakeview Manor belonged to the Dragonborn though, and Ulfric angrily wondered how that detail had escaped them. Who had they thought to live in Lakeview Manor? He didn't even know.

He knew that it would take hours – a good fourteen hours of travel – to reach her, but he knew that he had no other option. Letting her die wasn't an option for him – he needed to say goodbye, to tell her that he had loved her as well, and to make sure that she died knowing that he accepted Leola as his own, and that he would take her in and care for her the way he would have if he had been present for her childhood.

In the distance, shattering his train of thought as many had over the course of the evening, Ulfric heard the roaring sound of a dragon. He felt as though his heart was dropping into his stomach. He moved quickly, dismounting his horse and drawing a sword.

_"Drem,"_ roared the dragon's voice as the beast came into view, its massive, scaly wings beating against the cold air. _"I am Odahviing, Fahdon – friend,"_ said the dragon, and Ulfric had never before been more grateful for his training with the Greybeards, for he recognized the beautiful language and the words spoken by the beast.

"What do you want?" Ulfric shouted as the dragon lowered itself down, landing in front of him and gazing at the King with its beady, reptilian eyes.

_"I was send by my Briinah – sister – the Dovahkiin,"_ said the dragon. _"She lies ill, dying – soon to take her last su'um…breath…"_

"Can you take me to her?" asked Ulfric, and there was a moment of silence.

_"She said to watch this path for the Jun...the King…and if you tried to come to her, to stop you."_

"But why?" Ulfric asked, frowning.

_"She is Sahlo…weak…she does not wish for you to see her in such a state, and she fears seeing you again. She has hurt you, and she knows this."_

Ulfric shook his head. "No, I forgive her. I understand. I'm not angry. I just want to see her. I need to see her one last time. I need to tell her that I love her."

Odahviing was silent again, finally giving a single nod of his head and lowering it to the ground.

_"Know that she is the only one I allow to ride on my back,"_ he said.

"Then I am honoured," answered Ulfric. He was careful as he moved forward, getting atop the dragon's back. "I am ready," he said, holding on tightly, and without another word, the dragon spread his majestic wings and took off.

Ulfric shivered a bit as they began to soar through the air. Up here, in the sky, it was icy and cold. Even bulky Ulfric, clad in furs and warm clothing, was chilled to the bone.

"Will this take long?" he shouted, hoping that the dragon would hear him over the deafening roar of the wind billowing past them.

_"Niid…no,"_ answered Odahviing, though he said nothing more.

Ulfric was silent again as they flew along. He took the time to think, considering everything. What would he say to the Dragonborn when he saw her again? Would he blurt out that he loved her? Sit at her bedside and begin by saying that he forgave her? Would he even speak, or would he simply rush to hold the dying angel in his arms? Would she cry? Would she be angry that he didn't listen to her? Would she be happy? He didn't know. She had always been so unpredictable, and surely the years had changed her.


	3. Chapter 3

_"We are here," _said the dragon, and Ulfric blinked. How long had they been flying? He knew not. He knew only that the dragon was aiming downwards, soaring to the ground beside the beautiful homestead. Ulfric smiled sadly. Yes, this was the manor – how he wished he had known to look here, to find the Dragonborn, to find his beautiful daughter Leola. He had no way of knowing, though.

"Thank you," said Ulfric as the dragon landed, and Odahviing bowed his head. Immediately, Ulfric turned and rushed to the door.

He paused upon heaving open the front door, looking around for a moment. He proceeded through the door ahead of him, and then began up the staircase on his left. He shook his head as he peered through that door, seeing a single bed that probably belonged to Leola. He moved quickly to the next door, and as he opened it, he heard a fit of coughing from inside.

"Ulfric!" she gasped out through the coughing, her voice choked and hoarse. He moved quickly to her bedside. The sun was rising outside, and its pale, pinkish light lit her face through the window. She had wrinkles that didn't dull her exquisite Nordic beauty, and bags under her beautiful blue eyes. She looked weak, and he fell to his knees beside her bed.

"I forgive you," he whispered, taking her hand and gripping it between his own two. "I forgive you. I loved you – I love you. I couldn't just let you die without at least trying to see you one last time."

Tears came to her blue eyes as she gazed up at him. He took one hand and ran his thumb under her eye, catching one gleaming tear that slid free.

"Don't cry," he whispered.

"Ulfric, I told you not to come," she breathed. "Where is Leola?"

"At the Palace, she's at the palace," he answered, breathless. "I'm going to keep her, I'm going to take care of her. She's so beautiful, I can't believe it – I always wanted a daughter."

At hearing this, she began to cry, and he realized immediately that it was the wrong thing to say.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, and he shook his head.

"No, no, don't be sorry," he said to her, moving closer.

"I kept her from you. You should have been able to meet her sooner, you should have seen her grow up, but I took that from you!" she said to him.

"You said in your letter that you offered to let her meet me – that's not keeping her from me, love, it's not. You tried," he answered, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Ulfric," she whimpered weakly. "I shouldn't have run away."

"Shh," he said, and his lips pressed against hers softly. Her lips were dry, and though she tried to kiss him back, it was weak. He drew back, opening his eyes and gazing into hers. "I'm not angry, love. I just didn't want you to die alone, I didn't want you to die without knowing that you were forgiven, and that I love you, and that Leola would be safe and cared for."

"I was just so scared," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. Tears now streamed freely from her pretty blue eyes, and her body shook with weak sobs. "You were the King, and we were drunk, and I panicked… I came here, I didn't know where else to go that I could disappear. I thought you would be angry when you found out we were going to have a child, so I kept her from you…"

"How did you disappear?" he asked her softly. "I looked everywhere…I never thought to look here."

"I had the Jarl's steward killed," she whispered, gazing intently up at him. "She sold me the property – she was the only one who knew that I owned this place, so with her gone…no one would know."

Ulfric fought the urge to sigh, to shake his head, and instead just smiled.

"You were always so resourceful," he told her, running a hand through her hair gently. It was tangled and knotty, and he gently worked his fingers through it so as not to hurt her.

"I wish that I could take it all back," she said.

"Stop that," he said to her. "Please, don't dwell on your mistakes. You're forgiven. I want you to be at peace."

He moved from where he knelt, lying down on the bed and pulling her into his arms. She felt cold to the touch, which was strange, given that he had just been high in the sky on the back of a dragon. She nestled herself comfortably into his chest, and he held her close, stroking her hair.

"How did you get here so fast?" she asked weakly.

"Odahviing," he replied. "He flew me here."

"That bastard," she replied, saying nothing further, and he couldn't help but to laugh.

"He told me that you had sent him to make sure I didn't come," he told her.

"He's never been good at following instructions. He was a follower of Alduin, but I called him for help and he helped me. He's been my follower since then, but apparently now he's yours," she said, and for the first time since he'd arrived, he detected a teasing hint of humour in her voice. It put a smile on his lips as he held her close. She was so near to death, he feared that any slight motion – holding her the wrong way, breathing on her the wrong way, anything – might push her over the edge and he would lose her forever.

Before he could say anything more, an eruption of hoarse coughs began to leave her lips, her body shaking with the force of each one, her expression clearly one of pain. One finger weakly pointed at the nightstand, where a small red vial sat just out of her reach.

"Ulfric," she wheezed breathlessly when the fit had subsided, "I need to go."

As Ulfric's blue eyes fell upon the red vial, the realization that it was a poison struck him like a dagger. He shook his head quickly.

"No, no, love," he said, his voice pleading. "Not like that. The Divines are coming for you, let them take you their way, let them carry you to Sovngarde when they are ready for you."

"Ulfric, there is no place in Sovngarde for me," she whispered, her pretty blue eyes half-open as she gazed up at him, her thick lashes fluttering open and closed as she struggled to stay awake. "Give me the vial and let me end this miserable suffering. I am in pain, my love…there is no other way. I have consulted with every healer, restoration mage, and alchemist I can find. I am dying, and I do not wish to prolong the inevitable unless I can do something worthwhile. I can't, so I am ready."

Ulfric felt the stinging of tears in his eyes as she spoke. Each word that left her lips brought him immense pain, and his hand shook as he reached for the red vial.

"Don't drop it," she murmured, a weak smile on her lips as he, hands shaking, brought the poison to her hand and pressed the vial into her palm.

"I will see you again, love," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "We will meet in Sovngarde, where we shall drink mead and be merry with our brothers and sisters again."

"I already told you, Ulfric, I'm not going to Sovngarde," she said again, and he shook his head.

"You must, love, for you are one of the greatest Nord warriors to ever live," he breathed, feeling the dampness of a tear escaping the lids of his eyes and making its course down his cheek.

"We will see," she said, a weak smile on her lips. "I hope that I will see you again, Ulfric."

With that, she lifted the vial to her lips and downed it in one go, covering her mouth and cringing as the venomous liquid flowed down her throat. Her grip of the vial loosened and it fell from her hand, crashing to the ground and shattering.

"Oh, it's vile," she muttered, and Ulfric smiled sadly down at her.

"I love you," he whispered, holding her close to him.

"And I love you, my King," she murmured in response, snuggling herself into him.

Ulfric was silent, his eyes closing and tears beginning to flow freely. He held her near, feeling her weak breaths beginning to slow until her body ceased to move entirely. For several long minutes, he simply lay there, clutching her lifeless form. Finally, he began to slowly pull back, but he burst into throaty sobs as he saw her, blue eyes shut and a peaceful expression on that beautiful face. He pulled her to him again, clutching her body.

"Please," he sobbed. He had never cried like this before – he prided himself on his emotional strength as well as his physical strength. He had seen death – cheated it himself, even – and held the cold, dead corpses of many comrades. He had laid them to rest, with promises of hearty laughter and delicious mead in Sovngarde. What did she mean that Sovngarde had no place for her? It mattered not. He knew that she would be there.

Lifting the lifeless figure of the beautiful Nord warrior in his strong arms, he turned and began to make his way out. He headed down the stairs, giving the front door a gentle kick to open it. Sitting outside was Odahviing, his scales gleaming in the light of the rising sun as his gaze fell upon the fallen Dragonborn. He bowed his head deeply, closing his eyes.

_"Brit briinah," _murmured the dragon, and Ulfric gave a single nod.

"She has made her journey to Sovngarde," he said softly.

_"__Krosis, King of Skyrim…I am sorry for your loss," _answered the dragon as Ulfric moved forward, carefully hoisting himself up atop the dragon while cradling the lifeless body against him. It would be a difficult ride home, between composing himself and holding on to both the dragon and the body, but he had to return home. He had to see Leola, and he had to ensure that her mother was laid to rest in a fashion to befit only the best.


	4. Chapter 4

Leola's blue eyes scanned her surroundings, as the crowds of people before her clad in black strained to hear Ulfric's speech. She stood at his side on the steps of the palace, beside the elegant coffin that had been built for her mother. The sides of the coffins were adorned with a strange and beautiful language, engraved into the cold, gleaming stone walls that surrounded her mother's body.

She hadn't seen her mother, as Ulfric seemed to have gone to great lengths to keep the body away from young Leola. The funeral plans had been very sudden, and it seemed that all of Skyrim had arrived to pay their final respects to her mother. It left the young woman baffled as she gazed across the sea of people. None of them looked mocking or uncaring – all seemed to genuinely care about her mother, and all seemed to genuinely grieve for her.

Ulfric's speech amazed Leola. He spoke of great battles he had fought alongside her mother, of her power and prowess on the battlefield, and of her powerful magical abilities. He spoke of her kindness, of her beauty, and of her selflessness. He also spoke of her being something he called Dragonborn – a human born with the soul of a dragon, able to command their great power. Many people nodded in agreement as he spoke of Leola's mother singlehandedly defeating the great dragon Alduin, the destroyer of worlds, and it was all the young Nord could do to keep her mouth from falling open in awe.

The city was open to all those wishing to come and honour the life of their hero, and the province had certainly taken advantage of that. Everywhere she walked after the service, she was bumping into unfamiliar people from all ends of Skyrim. She did have to admit that many of the young men and women she was encountering were quite attractive, but her mother's funeral wasn't a place where she wanted to find a life partner.

"Excuse me? Are you Leola Stormcloak?" asked a male voice, and the young blonde turned in surprise. A tall, slim man stood behind her, with tousled dark hair and dark brown eyes so deep you could fall in and drown. She blinked her blue eyes in surprise.

"Er, no, my name is Leola though," she said softly. "I'm no relation to Ulfric."

"Oh," said the man, frowning. "My deepest apologies. He mentioned in his speech today that you were the Dragonborn's daughter, and with the way he spoke about her I kind of assumed that he was your father. My name is Aventus Aretino, it's an honour to meet you," he said, bowing deeply. Leola quirked an eyebrow as he rose again.

"Why?" she asked softly.

"I met your mother once when I was very young, I remember her being a remarkable person," said Aventus with a smile. "She did me a great favour, as I recall."

Leola was quiet for a few long seconds, gazing up at the handsome man who spoke so fondly of her mother. "I don't know anything about what my mother did," she said in a soft voice. "She seemed so normal to me. She was like any other mother – she read to me, she taught me, she made all my gowns, she took me out for walks… she never taught me to fight or anything like that, she didn't even have weapons around the house, I had no idea she was some sort of warrior, and I swear by Talos that if I have to hear that song The Dragonborn Comes one more time…"

Leola paused, feeling her cheeks heating up as she realized how passionate she had become. It stung her heart to know that her mother had an entire life she knew nothing about – and now, she was going to piece together what people could tell her to find out just who her mother really was.

"I would imagine she wanted to protect you," Aventus said with a warm smile. "Look, this probably isn't the best time to ask, but I need your help with something."

"With what?" Leola asked, frowning curiously as she gazed up at him.

He spoke slowly, very clearly picking and choosing his words with care. "Your mother…was in possession of something…that belongs to some friends of mine," he said to her. "Now that she's gone, we need it back."

Anger flashed in Leola's blue eyes as she looked up at him. "You're seriously coming up to me at my mother's _funeral _to ask me to give you back something of yours that she had?" she snapped, and Aventus held up his hands defensively, taking a small step back.

"Look, if you help me with this simple thing…I'll tell you everything I knew about her," he said, smiling a bit. "I know it's a bad time to ask, but it's rather urgent."

Leola felt herself perk up somewhat at hearing his words. "Really? Everything you know?" she asked softly.

"Everything," he replied, smiling.

After a few moments of silence, deliberating, Leola gave him a reluctant nod.

"Alright. What is it that you're looking for?"

"It's a dagger," he replied. "It would be black, with a curved blade, and it may or may not be glowing."

Leola stared at him. "Where would I find a dagger? I just told you she didn't have weapons around the house," she said, rather frustrated.

"Did your mother leave you anything?" he asked, clearly trying to be gentle with the now-orphaned young woman. "I was told it would be somewhere in town, just not where."

"Well, Ulfric did say that my mother told him…no, it wouldn't be," Leola said, quickly shaking her head.

"Told him what?" pressed Aventus.

"He said that she left me a house here in town, and that all her possessions are in it for me to do as I please," she said to him.

"That would be it, then," said Aventus with a nod. "Lead the way."

A light sigh escaped Leola's lips. He had shown her the house, but she hadn't gone in yet. She had the key with her, so she turned and began down the little path that would take them to the house.

"Why is it so important that you get this dagger?" Leola asked as Aventus walked along beside her, smiling kindly as he did.

"I'll explain, I promise," he said to her. "It's part of telling you everything I know about your mother. You just have to trust me until we find it."

Leola didn't say anything else, simply stalked along with Aventus in tow. The large, elegant house appeared as they rounded a corner, sitting alongside a couple of the other larger homes in town. Leola passed through the fence and unlocked the door quickly, unsure what she would find inside.

The door swung open to reveal a large room, which had a long dining table and a staircase. To the right was a doorway that seemed to lead into a rather unstocked kitchen, and a handful of shelves with seemingly useless items stood around the main room.

"Upstairs, perhaps?" Aventus inquired, obviously noticing the same things that she was.

"Probably," Leola said. She moved forward, beginning slowly up the staircase. Her eyes went wide as she and Aventus reached the top and she gazed around. Mannequins clad in all sorts of armour, mounted heads and weapons, display cases with even more weapons…the entire upper floor of the house appeared to be an armoury.

"Incredible," murmured Aventus, moving slowly around. Leola was quiet, watching as he peered into every display case, taking the time to admire each weapon that was mounted on the wall. "Leola, this is amazing."

"Another testament to my mother's secret life," Leola muttered angrily, folding her arms over her chest.

"This is it!" exclaimed Aventus as he paused, crouching before one display case. He carefully unlatched it and lifted the glass lid. Leola watched as he delicately pulled out the sleek black dagger from within, turning it over in his hands before, satisfied that it was what he was seeking, wrapped it in a cloth and tucked it away.

"Now," said Leola as he rose to his feet again, "tell me everything you know."

Aventus smiled as he looked at her, giving a firm nod. "Alright," he replied. "Let's sit down, and I will tell you everything I know about your mother."


	5. Chapter 5

Leola sat on the bench of the long dining table in her mother's home, staring blankly across, into Aventus's dark eyes as he gazed intently back at her. He had just finished speaking, telling her all that he knew of her mother's association with the Dark Brotherhood.

"My mother killed the Emperor of Tamriel," Leola said, her voice expressionless and monotone.

"Yes," said Aventus with a nod. "And many other people, but with the nature of our organization, they all had it coming."

Leola was quiet, lowering her head and closing her blue eyes to think. She was struggling to absorb what Aventus was saying. Her mother had been the leader of a group of assassins that worshipped a deity that was neither aedra nor daedra? Her mother had killed people in exchange for large sums of gold? An image flashed before her eyes of her mother, loving blue eyes gazing adoringly at her young daughter, brushing Leola's pretty blonde hair and softly singing to her. For a moment, she tried to conjure up the image of her mother as a warrior, ferociously slashing at people with a sword, but she just couldn't envision it. It was nothing like the woman she had known.

"This is all so hard to believe," Leola said in a soft voice. "I mean, I believe it, but it's difficult…I want to know everything. I want to know what else she didn't tell me."

"We should look around upstairs more, then," said Aventus. "I'm sure there will be other stuff up there that could help us piece together more. I mean, we already know that she was the leader of the Dark Brotherhood and a major asset in the Stormcloak rebellion. There are loads of other factions around Skyrim that she could have been associated with – the Thieves' Guild in Riften, the Dawnguard vampire hunters, the Companions in Whiterun…"

"It would be wonderful if my mother was a vampire hunter," said Leola with a faint smile. "It would be…you know, redeeming."

"Being your mother should have been redeeming enough," Aventus said in a tone that was almost stern. "Don't forget that whatever you knew of her was still a part of who she was, and that she left everything else behind to focus on you."

Leola bit her lip slightly, hanging her head and nodding. He was right, after all – perhaps having Leola had changed her mother, and Aventus was right that she raised Leola in an attempt to redeem herself for all the other things she had done. That still didn't help the fact that she had told Leola nothing, though, but instead left her completely in the dark.

"It's times like these I really wish I had a father," Leola said with a sad laugh.

"You do have a father," said Aventus. "We just don't know who he was. Maybe we'll find some clues to that somewhere in the house?"

"You think?" she asked softly.

"Maybe. Come on, let's look around upstairs," he said, standing up. Leola stood as well, following him as he moved to the staircase and began to go up. She paused when they reached the top, looking around slowly at all the displayed weapons and armour. She sighed softly, looking at Aventus.

"Where do we even begin?" she asked softly as the tall man moved towards one of the display cases.

"Right here," he said in a soft voice, carefully unlatching the display case and lifting the glass lid to get a better look at what was inside.

Leola walked over, looking inside. A bulky, spiky-looking mace sat inside, with an eerily skeletal face carved into the side that was facing upwards. There was a haunting green glow about it, and Leola, finding herself increasingly uncomfortable, took a step away.

"What is that?" she asked softly.

"I believe," murmured Aventus, "that this is the mace of Molag Bal."

"The daedric prince?" asked Leola, remembering all the time spent in the massive library her mother had always kept stocked.

"Yes," said Aventus, nodding. "Now…I just wonder how your mother got her hands on this…" Leola watched Aventus, whose gaze shifted towards one of the mannequins. He moved towards it, closely examining the sleek, shining black armour that it wore. "Ebony mail," he said slowly. "I believe it's the armour of the daedric prince Boethiah."

"Aventus," said Leola in a soft, shaky voice, "why is my mother's house filled with daedric artifacts?"

The man was silent. Instead of responding, he moved to another display case, opening it and examining the sword that was inside.

"Leola," said Aventus finally, turning to face her, "I'm going to head back to Dawnstar. I'll see what I can find out though, maybe the others in the Brotherhood will know something more – I only know the stories, about your mother saving our Brotherhood and how skillfully she assassinated the Emperor. There may be more."

"Thank you," Leola said in a soft voice, smiling sadly up at him. "I hope it's not what it looks like…"

"I do too," Aventus agreed. "I'll ask for you at the Palace when I come back. I'm assuming you're going to stay there?"

"I am, I don't want to be here with all these daedric items," answered the young blonde with a shudder. Aventus laughed and then nodded.

"Until we meet again," he said with a motion that was almost a bow. Leola blushed, smiling at him as he turned and headed away. She was quiet as he went down the stairs, moving only after she'd heard the door fall shut downstairs. She headed down the stairs and through the dining room, towards a small room she'd noticed in the back of the house.

Stepping inside, Leola looked around curiously. It appeared to be a child's room, with two small beds, a chest, a wardrobe and a dresser. Sitting on a shelf was a small doll, crudely sewn together and with golden thread drawn into pigtailed blonde hair. Beside it was a toy wooden sword, and then a sprig of lavender. It was clearly a room intended for young children, and as Leola ran a hand over the blanket of one of the small beds, sadness filled her heart.

She had been planned. Her mother had wanted to have children. She had a room prepared for them in her home and everything. Why had she run away? Why had she raised Leola in the secluded manor on the lake rather than in the bustle and excitement of the city? Why had she disappeared and left all her friends behind? Leola had barely known anyone growing up, seeing people only when her mother asked her to run errands in town for her.

She looked at the other bed with a frown on her lips. She was meant to have a sibling. A brother or a sister, someone to play with. Of course, she had also been meant to have a father, and that hadn't happened. Perhaps that was the reason why her mother had run off with her – her father wasn't somebody that her mother wanted to be in Leola's life. Perhaps she had, in fact, been unplanned – a plan for the future that had come earlier than intended, and with the wrong man no less. That would explain her mother's actions.

Turning, she left the small room behind her and headed back towards the front door. Visiting this house and seeing all her mother's possessions had only left her with more questions than she had answers. On her way past the bookshelf, she shot it a glance, her blue eyes scanning the various spines that faced outwards to see if there was anything of interest. Nothing seemed to jump out to her, though, so she continued to the front door.

As her hand reached for the door, a sudden chill ran over her spine. She whipped around, half-expecting to see somebody behind her, but there was no one. She was silent, an uneasy feeling running through her. She felt as if somebody was watching her, but how could that be? She was alone in the house, and Aventus had left.

Shivering slightly, she opened the door and stepped out, making sure to close and lock the door behind her before hurrying away. She now wanted nothing more than to get away from there, back to the safety of the palace. She didn't know what other secrets were hidden away in that house, but she certainly didn't intend to go in there alone again.


	6. Chapter 6

"If this girl is your daughter, you need to tell her."

Ulfric hung his head as he heard the words that left Galmar's lips. It was exactly what he had expected to hear from the old man, and he gave a slight nod.

"I know," Ulfric said in a low voice. "I want to tell her."

"Then why don't you?"

"I'm afraid that she'll resent me." Ulfric turned his head away, ashamed as he continued to speak. "I knew nothing of her existence. I'm afraid that she will think I abandoned her, or that I didn't want her. I'm afraid she won't believe me when I say that I didn't know. I'm just…I'm afraid."

He hated admitting it. He was supposed to be fearless, the brave and courageous Nord leader and High King of Skyrim, but his own beautiful daughter struck fear in his heart.

"The longer you keep it from her, the more likely she will be to resent you," said Galmar sternly. "If she finds out that you've known since the night she arrived and haven't said anything – and if she's anything like her mother - she'll probably be furious."

Ulfric gave a slight nod. "You are right," he agreed. "It leaves me no less fearful that she will reject me, though."

"Then at least you will both know the truth finally, and you will have peace of mind knowing that you tried. Perhaps she will change her mind later on, when she has had time to herself and thought about it," Galmar said with a knowing grin.

Before Ulfric could even so much as open his mouth to respond, the majestic palace doors opened and Leola slipped inside. Her blonde hair was drawn into a loose braid that ran down her back, and she wore a simple blue dress. Ulfric couldn't help but to smile when he saw her.

"Good evening, Leola," he said.

"Good evening, Ulfric," she responded with a smile. "Good evening, Galmar."

"A girl was here looking for you," said Galmar to the blonde, and both she and Ulfric looked at him in surprise.

"Really? Who was it?" asked Leola curiously.

"Not sure. She said she was staying at the Candlehearth Inn though, so for you to just drop by when you got the chance," Galmar replied, and Leola nodded curiously.

"I guess I'll go there in the morning, then," she said. "Is there anything ready to eat before bed?"

"Pheasant roast and potato soup in the kitchen," said Galmar, moving to stand up. "I'll go and get you some."

"No, let me do it," said Leola with a warm smile, hurrying off to the kitchen before Galmar could object. The old man smiled after the girl as she walked off, shifting his attention back to Ulfric.

"You have an amazing girl there, Ulfric," he said approvingly as he stood up. "You'd best let her know where she got that."

"From her mother, no doubt," said Ulfric, and Galmar laughed.

"You underestimate yourself, High King of Skyrim," said the old man before heading away. Leola emerged from the kitchens just as Galmar disappeared into the sleeping quarters.

"This smells good," Leola chimed as she headed to the table, seating herself beside Ulfric and setting down the plate that held her roasted pheasant and the bowl of soup.

"Be sure to tell Nilsird in the morning that you enjoyed it, then," said Ulfric with a small smile.

"Of course I will," chimed the young woman sweetly before beginning to eat the soup. Ulfric's eyes fell upon the large tankard beside his hand, half-full of mead. A handful of empty bottles littered the surface of the table, and a line of bottles waited nearby to top off the tankard if he needed more.

"Do you want a drink?" Ulfric asked, glancing over at her.

"No thank you," Leola said softly, her gaze following his towards the mead bottles. "I don't drink alcohol."

Ulfric raised an eyebrow as he looked at her. He remembered watching her mother drink, downing bottle after bottle of mead like a true Nord warrior. But then, of course, their drunkenness had been what caused that fateful night so many years ago, so perhaps she had quit drinking when she had Leola. It made sense.

"Well, I see you're not a true Nord, then," he said in a teasing voice, offering her a friendly smile. Leola shrugged.

"I don't even know if I'm all Nord," she said softly. "I never met my father. For all I know, he could be a dark elf." A light laugh escaped Leola's lips, and Ulfric shook his head, smiling.

"Your mother was a good person, but not the type to bed an elf," he said. "I knew your mother, I'm…I'm almost certain that your father had to have been a Nord."

"Do you…do you have any idea who it was?" Leola asked softly, looking up at him. "If you knew her as well as you say you do, I'm sure you knew the types of people she spent time with."

Ulfric remained silent for a moment. To a degree, he did know who she had spent her time with. She had been a Stormcloak through and through, so he knew that she had spent a great deal of time with the troops, and with himself and Galmar. However, he also knew that she had loyalties lying in other places, with people unknown to him. After the Emperor's assassination, rumours had spread that she'd been seen in Solitude the day it had happened, yet many ascertained that the Dark Brotherhood was responsible for his death. There were many times that she would leave Windhelm, refusing to say where she was going and refusing to say where she'd been when she returned. He had often suspected that she was in some way affiliated with the Dark Brotherhood, but until the day came that she came to kill him, he had decided not to question her about it.

"To a degree," he said slowly. "Your mother spent a lot of time here. She did live here, after all, and I believe that Windhelm was her favourite city. She did often leave, though. I don't know where she went, or with whom she travelled. She went all over Skyrim, and even to Solstheim, I'm told."

"Why did she go to Solstheim?" asked Leola, clearly curious.

Ulfric smiled. This adventure was one that she had detailed to him, so he was more than happy to tell Leola all that he knew.

"Well, she was in Riften – Talos only knows why – when some strangers came up and questioned her about being the Dragonborn. She was Dragonborn, I know this for sure, so when she told them this, they attacked her. She killed them, and she found a letter on one of them with instructions to come to Skyrim and kill her before she reached Solstheim, so naturally, she went to Solstheim. She discovered that an evil, ancient Dragon priest – the first Dragonborn, a man called Miraak – had enslaved much of the island and intended to take over. She never did find out why, whether he wished to rule all of Tamriel, or to destroy it."

Ulfric gazed towards Leola, who was listening intently, and smiled slightly. For a moment, he felt like a father – a true father, telling his little girl stories of heroes and villains, good and evil, and the fate of Tamriel.

"So he was Dragonborn like she was..?" Leola asked softly, and Ulfric nodded.

"He was. He could absorb the souls of dragons for more power, just as she could, and he wielded the power of the thu'um. She got the help of a handful of people in Solstheim – including the Skaal, a Nord tribe living on the island – and travelled to Oblivion, where she fought and defeated Miraak and saved Tamriel."

Leola smiled up at him as she listened. She gave a slight nod, though there was a slight falter in her ever-present smile when he said that her mother had travelled to Oblivion. As his story reached its end, Leola gave a small nod.

"That's amazing," she said softly. "So my mother saved Tamriel many times in her life."

"Many," said Ulfric with a smile. "She saved us from dragons, from all sorts of villains bent on destroying us…she saved Skyrim from the Imperial influence…"

"You know, Ulfric," said Leola suddenly, smiling over at him, "I know that with her gone, I'll never find out who my father was, but if I could, I would hope that it would be someone like you."

"Like me?" Ulfric asked, startled.

"Brave and strong and kind, and someone who admired and respected my mother and her accomplishments the way you do. You can really hear it when you talk about her," she explained. "I think you'd be a great father."

"I… er, thank you," Ulfric said, at a loss for words.

Leola stood, but before she began to walk away, she leaned down and laid a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, Ulfric," she said softly. "For everything. For letting me stay here, for taking care of me until I get back on my own feet, and for telling me about how wonderful my mother really was."

With that, she turned and headed in the direction of the sleeping quarters, with Ulfric staring intently after her. A slight pain stabbed at his heart as the door closed behind the beautiful blonde. Galmar was right. He should tell her, he should be honest with her and let her know. After what she had just said, he had a feeling that she wouldn't resent him for it – if anything, she would probably understand why he was hesitant to say anything.

A sigh left his lips and he shook his head. His blue eyes fell upon the half-filled tankard of mead in his hand. He hesitated a moment, and then brought it to his lips, downing every last drop in a single go before letting the tankard hit the table with a thud as he stood and walked briskly from the table.


	7. Chapter 7

"You must be Leola?"

The young blonde turned as she heard the words from behind her, hesitating slightly as she saw the young Breton woman. She was a brunette, clad in brown trousers, boots, studded gloves, and a white blouse with a black vest on top. She had eyes that were a light blue-grey colour and full lips that gave the blonde a smile.

"My name is Erith," continued the brunette, flashing Leola a wink. Leola could feel her cheeks heating up. "I knew your mother."

"Seems everyone knew her but me," Leola said in a soft voice. "It's nice to meet you."

Erith nodded towards a nearby table before moving towards it to sit down. Leola followed, seating herself across from Erith.

"So," said the brunette with a grin, clearly appraising Leola's appearance as her eyes wandered, causing Leola to feel even more warmth rushing to her cheeks. "My friends and I, we're travelling merchants, kind of like the khajiit caravan. They had this crazy idea – mind you, I didn't support this idea at all, but it was two against one – that we should come to you and see if you have anything interesting that you might be willing to sell to us. You know…things that belonged to your mother."

Leola's mouth fell open in surprise, before turning downwards into a frown. "Don't your friends think they're being a bit…insensitive?" she asked softly, and Erith gave a nod.

"I know, and I tried telling them that, but they really only care about the money. They were orphans, so travelling around and selling stuff is just the only way they've ever known how to get by. They wanted me to talk to you, though, and see if you'd be willing to consider." Erith offered Leola an apologetic smile, and the blonde sighed softly.

"Maybe another time," she said, shaking her head. "I'm still going through a lot of her stuff. Trying to figure out what it is, how she got it, things like that."

"You mean like the mace?" Erith asked, and before Leola could speak, she cut in, "I bumped into Aventus on my way into town and he mentioned it. And for the record, he also said this was a bad idea. He didn't want me to ask you, but I didn't have much choice."

Leola sighed softly, nodding. "Yes, like the mace," she mumbled. "There are…so many daedric artifacts in there. It's terrifying. I don't know where they came from or how she got them, or what to do with them now that she's gone."

Leola paused slightly as she spoke, realizing that she was spilling everything out to this Erith girl. She wasn't sure, however, why she was doing this. She had only just met the other girl, and the whole reason Erith wanted to talk to her was to see if she had anything interesting or valuable to sell. She probably didn't care to hear about all the stress and confusion that her mother's death was causing in the young Nord.

"I'm sorry," Leola said quickly, shaking her head. "You don't want to hear about all this. Now's just not a good-"

"No, go ahead," Erith cut in quickly, before Leola could finish. "My friends may be all about the money, but I was raised with more decency than that. If you need to talk, I'm all ears."

Leola smiled a bit at the other girl, giving a light shrug of her shoulders. "I don't know," she said softly. "There's just so much. My life was so easy before, eat and sleep and clean and read and laugh with my mother. She would sing to me and tell me stories, but the stories she told were nothing like the ones I've been hearing since I came here. So first off there's me having to find out about all this warrior, adventurer type stuff from other people and trying to process it, and then there's all the weird stuff in her house that doesn't make sense with all the things that Ulfric has said…"

"Is there stuff other than just the daedric things?" asked Erith.

"Nothing else that Aventus was able to identify, but there was a lot of weird stuff," Leola replied softly.

"If you want, I could come in and take a look. I happen to know about a lot of stuff regarding magical and mysterious items," Erith offered with a grin. Seeing the hesitation on Leola's face, she quickly added, "No buying offers. I won't price anything, just try to help figure out what it is."

Leola gave a small nod. "Okay," she said softly, smiling. "I suppose we could do that."

Erith grinned at Leola, nodding. "When do you want to do that, then? We could go right now, I'm not busy, or if you have anything you need to do we could meet up another time."

Leola smiled, shaking her head slightly. "I don't have anything else I need to do," she said. "Let's go now."

Erith nodded and stood from the table, with Leola quickly doing the same so as to follow her out. The brunette stopped as they passed by the counter, pulling out some gold from her pocket and quickly grabbing an apple and a chunk of bread from Elda. Taking a bite out of the apple, she nodded towards the door, motioning for Leola to lead the way.

Leola opened the door, pausing to hold it for Erith. "Thanks," said the brunette as she passed through before taking another bite out of the apple. Leola let go of the door and began down the path that ran alongside the wall, in the direction of the market. Erith followed, happily munching on her apple.

"So, um, you said that you knew my mother?" Leola asked softly, and Erith gave a nod.

"Yeah. Not well, but I met her a handful of times. My mother worked at a mine outside Markarth, and your mother came by sometimes, usually because she needed iron or something like that," Erith replied, punctuating the end of her sentence with a large bite of bread.

"What did she need iron for?" asked Leola, frowning a bit as they made their way past the forge.

Erith nodded towards the blacksmiths, hard at work smelting and smithing away. "Making weapons, improving weapons, all sorts of stuff," she replied. "Lots of the merchants around Skyrim remember her making fantastic weapons. She would craft them herself and then enchant them, and then she would sell them all over Skyrim."

Leola wanted to sigh. Yet another thing she hadn't known about her mother. It seemed like it would never end. She was a talented smith, _and _she could enchant weapons and armour? "I never knew that," Leola said softly.

"Well, no, making weapons isn't exactly a priority when you're a family woman," said Erith with a light laugh, grinning over at Leola. "But yeah, I mostly just chatted briefly with her whenever I saw her. I was the only kid there, it was pretty lonely with just me and my dog."

"How did you end up with the two friends you mentioned?" Leola asked.

"They swung by to do some business when we were teenagers and I jumped on the opportunity to join them and see the world. I think they just wanted to get with me, but I don't swing that way," Erith said, winking at Leola. The blonde, again, felt her cheeks heating up slightly.

"And you've been a travelling merchant ever since?" asked the Nord as they reached the gate of Hjerim.

"I go where I want, I sleep wherever I can rest my head, and I'm free as a bird," replied the brunette with a laugh, watching as the blonde made her way up to the front door and unlocked it with the little key. Leola opened the door and stepped inside, Erith following quickly.

"Most of the stuff is upstairs," Leola said softly. "There's not really anything down here."

"It's still worth taking a look," Erith said with a grin as she began to walk around the edge of the main room, examining the shelves and everything on them. Simple things – elegant pottery, a lute, and a few bottles of Nord mead that were collecting dust.

"Let's just go upstairs," Leola said quickly as Erith headed towards the archway in the back, and Erith shot the blonde a curious look before heading in. Leola headed quickly after Erith, following her into the room with the two small childrens' beds.

"It looks like your mother was planning on being a mother after all," Erith said in a soft voice as she picked up the blonde doll on the shelf. "I believe this should have been yours?"

"I don't want it," said Leola, shaking her head as Erith put the doll back. "If she wanted me to have it I'm sure she would have taken it with her."

"I suppose that is true," said Erith as she moved to open the wardrobe. She frowned as she looked inside. It was empty, but there was some scuffing on the back panel. "I think this comes out," said the brunette, beginning to fumble with the back panel.

"I don't think so," said Leola with a shake of her head. "That would be weird."

"No, seriously," said Erith, knocking gently on the panel. "I just need to figure out how."

Leola watched for a moment, until Erith finally dislodged the panel and it swung open. Both girls exchanged a wide-eyed look before the brunette stepped in, followed closely by the blonde.

"An alchemy lab and an arcane enchanter," murmured Erith, moving curiously towards the enchanting table. "This must be where your mother enchanted the armour and weapons that she made before selling them."

"Yes, it must be," Leola said softly, shaking her head. "Let's just…let's just head upstairs and get to work."


	8. Chapter 8

Leola and Erith had had a productive day, sorting and examining the various items that littered the upper floor of Hjerim. Erith had managed to identify a number of daedric artifacts. The only things they were unable to find were the Ring of Namira and the legendary tome of knowledge attributed to Hermaeus Mora. Erith's theory, however, was that the book disappeared once read and therefore would no longer be within the collection.

Erith also identified a chest full of haunting carved masks as belonging to the ancient dragon priests, who were said to guard Nordic ruins that housed powerful secrets. "They were said to rise again when Alduin did," Erith had told Leola, and the girls had concluded that her mother must have defeated them.

It was late afternoon and Erith had headed back to the inn, saying that her two friends were expected to arrive that evening and she would have to meet them there. The girls had bonded during their time in Hjerim, and Leola gave the Breton girl a hug before they said goodbye.

Once Erith was gone, Leola made her way to the cemetery. Her mother's coffin was on display for those unable to attend the funeral to pay their respects. Ulfric had commissioned the building of a tomb for her. Though he had yet to announce where it would be, and Leola doubted that such information would be made public at all, she had overheard him discussing the Throat of the World with his builders. He wanted the tomb to be built in a style similar to the ancient Nordic burial tombs, and guarded with doors that, she had heard him say, could only be opened using "claws". Leola didn't understand what that meant, but she was sure he would tell her if she asked.

Leola knelt before the stone sarcophagus, tears in her closed blue eyes as she pressed her forehead against the cold, chiseled rock. She was silent for what felt like several long minutes before she finally forced herself to lean back and open her eyes. She gazed at the mysterious carvings, a language of lines and dots unknown to her.

"Mother," she whispered in a choked voice, "why did you do this to me? You kept everything from me…you hid yourself from me. Now you're gone and I have to put the pieces together…" She paused, her voice trembling too much to continue as she broke down into soft sobs. She felt the warm wetness of tears running down her cheeks. It was, she believed, the first time she had allowed herself to cry so freely since arriving in Windhelm.

When the tears had slowed and Leola had regained some composure, she lifted her gaze back to the carved coffin that held her mother's lifeless corpse. "Did you think I would never find out?" she whispered, her tone becoming one of anger. "Did you think you could keep me from the rest of the world forever? That I would never learn of your identity, that no one would tell me or even mention it? You were the person closest to me, but now I'm finding out that you were never anything more than a stranger who happened to be my mother."

"Do you think," came a voice from behind her, causing Leola to jump, "that perhaps your mother never told you any of this because she wanted to protect you?"

The blonde turned her head, seeing a Breton man sitting on the steps nearby. He had brown hair and sunken-in eyes, and he was clad in black robes.

"Who are you?" Leola asked, lifting a hand to wipe some tears from her eyes.

"The name's Sam," answered the man with a sly smile. "Sam Guevenne. I knew your mother."

"I wish everyone would stop saying that," Leola grumbled, shaking her head. The man just laughed.

"Sorry, I suppose you've heard that a lot this past little while," he said with a cheeky grin. There was a drunken slur to his voice that automatically made Leola wary, but he didn't seem like anything more than a cheerful, friendly drunk.

"What do you want?" Leola asked him softly, and Sam just gave a shrug.

"Just to talk, I guess," he replied. "You seemed sad. I wanted to cheer you up."

Leola let out a sigh, shaking her head slightly and pulling herself to her feet. "I think I'd rather be alone right now," she said, smoothing out the crinkles in the long skirt of her brown dress.

"Fair enough, suit yourself," said Sam with a dramatic shrug, hopping to his own feet. "But if you're really looking to put the pieces together, as you said, then pushing me away isn't something you want to do."

Leola paused, looking curiously at the man as he folded his arms over his chest. "Why's that? Do you…know things?" she asked softly.

"I most certainly do," he replied with a bright grin and a wink. "Did you know that your mother was one hell of a drunk?"

"Not until everyone started telling me so," Leola said softly, hanging her head. "But yes, I do know that."

"Oh," said Sam, pausing thoughtfully. "Well, did you know that she was one hell of a fighter? I saw her fight her way through a fort of mages like it was nothing."

"Believe me, that's the first one I heard," Leola said, growing irritated by this stranger telling her things she'd already been told. If he had nothing new to tell her, she wasn't interested.

"Oh," Sam said again. For a few long moments, he was pensive.

"Goodbye, Sam," Leola said coldly, turning to walk away.

"Wait, wait, I have one more," said the drunk, and Leola gave a sigh. She stopped walking, but didn't bother turning to face him.

"What?" she asked, annoyed that he would come and interrupt her mourning to talk random gibberish to her.

"Did you know that your mother won the favour of every Daedric Lord in her lifetime, and now rests among the tortured souls damned to Oblivion?"

Leola felt as if her heart had dropped, not into her stomach, but further, to the ground. Her breath caught, and for a moment she wasn't sure whether or not she had heard him correctly. She slowly turned to face him, seeing his face twisted into a devilish grin.

"Why would you say that?" she asked, trying to hide the shakiness in her voice.

"Because it's true, of course," answered Sam. "Your mother knew all along that she was going to Oblivion. Even ask Ulfric – she specifically told him before she died that she wasn't going to Sovngarde."

"That's not true," Leola snapped. Though she tried to maintain an air of confidence, her emotions were quickly slipping out of her control.

"Of course it is, do you think I'd lie to you?" asked Sam with a sly grin. "I also know who your father is, do you want to hear that?"

"No!" exclaimed Leola, and before he could say anything further, she broke into a run. She reached down, grasping the flowing skirt of her gown and lifting it enough that she wouldn't trip over it, hurrying away from the man.

As she was about to round the corner, she glanced over her shoulder. Gone was the strange Breton man who had taunted her just moments ago. She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at where he had been. How had he managed to leave so quickly.

Leola bit her lip, looking around. She didn't see any possible escape routes that would get him away from there in the few moments her back had been turned. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. That…or he had never been there to begin with.

The blonde shook her head quickly. No, that couldn't possibly be the answer. She wasn't going crazy or imagining things – she had seen the man there with her own two eyes. His disappearance was inexplicable, but his presence had been certain. With another light shake of her head, she began to walk back towards the palace, trying to shake off the chilling effect that Sam's words had left within her.


	9. Chapter 9

Ulfric's eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright in his bed, his breathing laboured and his brow covered in a cold sweat. He looked around frantically, relaxing slightly as he realized that all was well. He was in his own bed, in the palace, and nothing had changed from when he had fallen asleep. It was still dark outside, and a weak sigh left the King's lips.

Standing from his bed, he decided to go and get a drink. Though he doubted that anyone else would be wandering the halls at such an ungodly hour, he threw on a simple fur overcoat, just in case. Silently, he made his way to the door and left.

He glanced downwards, noting that his hands still trembled at the memory of his nightmare. Trying to push it from his mind, he made his way down the hallway of the sleeping quarters. He tread lightly, not wishing to wake anyone lest they ask questions.

Shutting the door almost silently behind him, he headed in the direction of the kitchen, but slowed when he saw a number of unopened bottles on the long table. He grabbed one and opened it, taking a long drink before letting out a relieved sigh.

Still, even as he pushed the memories of his nightmare away, they haunted him. Images flashed through his mind, sounds filling his ears even though there was no plausible source around. He saw, once again, the terrifying hall that had stood ahead of him. All had been dark, and the crashing of thunder could be heard outside, the occasional flashes of lightning briefly illuminating the hall.

It had looked as though it was once a castle, filled with glory and splendor, but it had fallen into decay long ago. Windows were broken, weeds were sprouting from between the stones of the cold, hard floor, and the place had a smoky smell to it. The hall was empty, but for a faded blood red carpet and a majestic black throne that stood at the far end of the hall, opposite Ulfric.

Ulfric, in his dream, had turned and tried to leave. He had grasped the handle of the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge, firmly locked and perhaps barricaded. When he had turned again to face the throne, the room had changed somewhat – dangling from the ceiling and lining the hall were dozens of lifeless bodies, hanging by their necks from ropes that seemed to be parts of the ceiling. The stench of rotten flesh was slowly beginning to fill the High King's nose, but he could not avert his eyes – not because the bodies interested or fascinated him, gods no, but because of what he saw at the other end of the hall.

Above the throne, he saw the Dragonborn. Her body was suspended in mid-air, floating lifelessly on her back with one arm dangling down and one laid across her chest. Her long brown hair tumbled downwards, the tips brushing against the top of the throne, and even though Ulfric was quite a distance away from her, he could see her blue eyes wide open. She appeared to be staring off into nothingness, as though in a trance. She was clad in a simple black dress, long and loose-fitting, which dangled elegantly from the floating woman.

Immediately, his instinct had been to go to her. He had started walking, keeping his gaze fixated on her in order to avoid looking at the dead bodies that hung all around him. His feet felt like lead, and though he tried to move quickly so as to reach her sooner, each step seemed to be moving him further and further away from her. He grew frustrated and broke into a run, but still, each step drew him backwards more. She became smaller and smaller in the distance until Ulfric had collapsed to his knees. He dropped his head, overwhelmed with stress and confusion.

When he had lifted his head, the bodies that dangled from the ceiling became skeletons, gazing towards him with an eerie boned smile. Standing before him was the Dragonborn, no longer floating in her mysteriously eternal sleep, but instead standing strong and beautiful as the day he last saw her – no, not the day that she died, but the night that they celebrated and bedded one another before she disappeared.

She wore a set of magnificent black armour, sleek and shiny. It appeared to be ebony, with matching boots and gauntlets. In her left hand was a golden sword, shining with fiery orange magic. In her right hand – her dominant hand, as he recalled – was a strange black mace that gleamed with mysterious green magic. Across her back was a white shield with gold trim, and she gazed intently at Ulfric. There was no love in her expression.

"Where are we?" Ulfric had asked her, staring up at the beautiful vision. She was a warrior through and through, clad in armour and wielding mysterious weapons.

"In your mind," she had answered, her voice still beautiful and memorable as ever. "You're dreaming, Ulfric. You need to wake up."

"I don't want to wake up, not if it means seeing you again," he had told her, but she quickly shook her head.

"Do not say that. This is no dream, it's a nightmare. My presence doesn't make it a good dream any more than my aid in the war made it an easy victory. It was a difficult war, and this is a terrible dream. You need to wake up before anything more can happen," she had said, and though he listened, he didn't understand.

"No, no," he said. "I don't want to wake up. You're here. What could possibly be so bad?"

"Ulfric, I can't stay here for long. I came only to warn you that you must wake up. The daedric prince Vaermina is the cause of this nightmare. You can wake up now, but if you allow yourself to be drawn further into the dream, it will be harder."

Ulfric didn't listen. He protested and fought, and outside, the thunder grew louder and the rain grew stronger. Finally, she had given in, telling him to open the door behind him.

"But it's locked?" he had asked, turning around. When he grasped at the handle this time, the door opened with ease – and when his head had turned to glance behind him, she was no longer where she had been standing before.

So, alone and uneasy, Ulfric had proceeded through his dream. He thought that perhaps, if he made it far enough, he would see her again, and so he had walked out the door. He had walked into every mortal man's darkest nightmares – it was exactly as the books had described, horrors that no sane human could even imagine let alone bear witness to. He had felt himself growing weak, he had knelt and cried and pleaded, but nothing had worked.

And then, there had been silence. Once again, he heard the Dragonborn speak to him. Her disembodied voice simply whispered, _"I loved you…"_

Ulfric took another drink of the mead. It was at that point that he had woken up, and now he was here, drinking mead in the wee hours of the morning. He was certain that the Dragonborn's words to him had been the truth – it was a dream conjured up by none other than the wicked Vaermina herself, but why? What had Ulfric done that led the daedric prince to take an interest in him?

"Ulfric?" came a voice from behind him, and the King turned his head and frowned at seeing Leola there. She wore a long white nightgown and her blonde hair was tangled and messy. There was a bleak sleepiness in her blue eyes, as though she had only just woken.

"Leola? What are you doing up so early?" he asked, taking another gulp of mead.

"I could ask you the same thing," answered the young woman with a small smile, and Ulfric nodded.

"That is true," he said, shaking his head. "I was just…restless."

"Did you have a bad dream?" she asked, and Ulfric frowned.

"No," he said quickly. "Did you?"

"Yes," she admitted, moving to sit beside him.

"Do you want to…talk about it?" Ulfric asked, unsure how he should approach the topic. He was sure that a father would ask something like that. His father never had, but then, he was rarely plagued with nightmares as a child.

"Not really," Leola said with a slight shudder. "I just…don't want to go back to sleep yet."

Ulfric was silent for a moment. He suddenly looked up, a thought coming to mind.

"Stay here," he said to Leola, standing. He hurried off, leaving the young blonde confused as she watched him go. Minutes later he returned with something in his hands. She couldn't tell what it was, only that it was wrapped in brown cloth.

"What's that?" she asked softly.

"I was given this by my mother as a boy," he said to her, setting down the item on the table. He left it wrapped. "I had hoped to one day give it to my own son, but my chance for a son has come and gone."

"No, it hasn't," Leola said softly, her eyes widening as she realized that he was implying he give it to her. "You can still have children, you just need to find someone."

"The only women in Skyrim who would have married me are either dead or married already," Ulfric muttered, shaking his head.

There was a long silence as Leola looked curiously towards Ulfric, while he remained completely unaware that she'd caught what he said.

"My mother?" she asked, and he nodded, still unaware what he had said. He suddenly paused as it dawned on him, and he slowly turned his head to look at her, seeing her awestruck gaze.

"Yes, Leola," said Ulfric, seeing no other choice than to admit it to her. "Your mother almost certainly would have married me if I'd asked."

"Why didn't you?" she asked in a soft voice. "I'd much rather be your child than have some random, unknown man as my father."

Ulfric sighed, shaking his head. "I… I don't know. I suppose I was afraid. She was wonderful, worth far more than I deserved…"

"You should have," Leola said softly.

"Yes," Ulfric agreed with a nod. "I should have."


	10. Chapter 10

"So," said Aventus, taking a sip from his glass of wine, "it took a lot of prying, but I found the information we needed and I'm not sure you're going to like it."

Leola bit her lip as she looked across the table at the handsome assassin, clad in his shadowy black armour with the buckles and red embellishment.

"I've learned a lot of things that I haven't liked," Leola said to him softly. "Go ahead."

The inn was relatively quiet. Elda was cleaning down the bar counter and the elderly Adonato Leotelli was hard at work putting pen to paper, but neither of them were paying any attention to Leola and Aventus.

"One of the other assassins, a young woman named Babette – well, kind of a young woman – she says that your mother did have ties with some of the Daedric princes. She wasn't sure about the extent of it, but she did know a few – your mother possessed Azura's Star, which she used frequently to make weapons, and Babette remembers your mother telling her about her encounters with Molag Bal and Sanguine. Apparently your mother had a drunken night with Sanguine that caused mayhem all across Skyrim, and for a short time, your mother was very open about her ties with Molag Bal, proudly wielding his mace and honouring him."

Leola cringed at hearing this particular detail. It was the exact thing that a child never wanted to hear about their parent, ever.

"When your mother moved to Windhelm and started to focus on her ties with the Stormcloaks, she apparently retired the mace and Babette never saw it again. She's very pleased to know that it's still safe – Babette's a vampire, see, so she technically belongs to Molag. She thinks that we should return it to the shrine where your mother found it, but obviously that's up to you. Anyways, Babette didn't know anything else, but she doubts that your mother managed to make it through her life without encountering more than three of the Daedric princes, especially with how important and influential she was."

Leola gazed sadly towards Aventus. It broke her heart to hear what he was saying, and it frightened her to realize that perhaps Sam Guevenne, the drunkard from the other day, had been right about her mother.

"I met a man the other day," Leola said softly, "and he told me that my mother won the favour of every Daedric prince in her life and now her soul is in Oblivion."

Aventus frowned at hearing what Leola said, quickly shaking his head. "That's impossible," he said. "She couldn't win the favour of _every _Daedric prince. At least one of them had to have rejected her – and they don't all get along. Babette says that your mother killed a priest of Boethiah in Molag's name, so how could she then go on to win Boethiah's favour?"

"I don't know, maybe it was done in the other order? I'm just saying, this is what the man said…"

"Who was he?" asked Aventus, clearly concerned by the idea of strange men discussing Daedra worship with Leola.

"I don't know. His name was Sam. I've never seen him around and I haven't seen him since. He was a drunk, I don't know how he knew anything about my mother and the Daedra," Leola said, rather frantic at this point as Aventus pressed her to tell him more.

"If he was a drunk then it was probably dumb luck," Aventus said, though there was something in his voice that had her doubting whether or not he himself believed it.

"I don't know," Leola said softly, shaking her head. "I mean, maybe. I suppose. I hope so."

"Aventus," came a voice, and both parties looked up to see the Breton, Erith, approaching with a smile on her lips. "Leola."

"Erith," Aventus greeted her with a nod.

"May I join you?" Erith asked, nodding towards the seat beside Leola. Aventus shifted his gaze towards the blonde.

"Of course," Leola said, smiling up at Erith. A look of surprise crossed Aventus's face.

"So you and Leola talked the other day when you got here?" he asked, and Erith nodded.

"Of course," she said, "I was nice to her about things, much moreso than the boys would have been." Erith shot Leola a smile, as if to prove it, and Leola smiled back, her cheeks heating up slightly. A slight smirk came to Aventus's lips as he saw the interaction.

Leola was quiet while Aventus told Erith what he had just told her, about Leola's mother and her ties with the Daedric princes. Erith was thoughtful for a moment.

"Well, we'd just have to find an orc to ask them about Malacath," she said. "And I know where a handful of other Daedric shrines are – stumbled upon them on my travels, it's not something I go out looking for," she added as Aventus shot her a questioning look. "We could go there and just…I don't know, ask?"

"Ask the Daedric princes?" asked Leola incredulously, staring over at the Breton in amazement. "How would that go? 'Yes, hello, all-powerful beings of Oblivion who could strike us down at any moment if they wished, we just wanted to know whether or not my mum was one of your followers? Yes? Ah, I see. That is all, goodbye!' Is that not the quickest way to get ourselves killed?"

"Not if we ask the right questions," said Erith quickly, frowning a bit at Leola's outburst. "We need to know what to do with their artifacts. We can't just go around selling them or passing them out here in Skyrim, so we should ask their respective princes what they want us to do with them. We might be able to keep some, we might have to return some to the shrines, we might have to deliver them to certain others… I don't know if you want them just lying around though, especially knowing that they're items some people would _kill _for."

Leola bit her lip slightly. Erith was right. Eventually, people would find out about the Daedric items that filled Hjerim, and she'd rather deal with them before that happened.

"Alright," she said. "We'll do that. Where do we start?"

"Narzulbur," said Erith. "It's an Orc stronghold not far from here. We'll go there and ask them to get us in contact with Malacath to see what he wants us to do with his artifact."

"Because the Orcs will certainly let _us _in," said Aventus, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"When they hear of our purpose they will," Erith replied. "Shall we?"

"Right now," asked Leola, a frown coming to her lips.

"Well, why not? We should be able to make it there and back before dark, and if it takes too long I'm sure the Orcs will be kind enough to give us a place to rest for the night," said the Breton.

"Have you ever _met _an Orc before?" Aventus asked, looking intently at Erith.

"Aventus," said Erith, "this is the _Dragonborn's daughter_. Even the Orcs will understand how important this is. I promise."

A sigh left Aventus's lips and he looked towards Leola. "I'll only go if you're willing to do it," he said to her.

Leola was quiet for a few long moments, thinking it over. She wasn't sure she had ever met an Orc before. Aventus spoke of them as though they were hostile, vicious beings, but Erith spoke of them as though they had the morality and thought process of humans.

"They're sentient and moral beings?" she asked softly.

"Yes," answered Aventus and Erith almost in unison. "They're just very solitary," Erith added quickly.

Leola bit her lip, and then nodded. "We'll go, then. If they don't want anything to do with us we'll find another way, but it's worth a try."

"That's my girl," said Erith with a grin, causing another flush of pink to spread across the young Nord's cheeks. "Let's get going."

The three stood up, and Aventus gave the young blonde a concerned look. "Leola," he said, "if we end up in a combat situation, I want you to just get behind me. Understood?"

"Understood," agreed Leola softly. She wasn't trained in combat at all, and though she had with her the dagger that Ulfric had given to her a couple of nights before, she knew that she wouldn't stand a chance if the group of them were attacked.

"We'll protect you, Leola, don't worry," said Erith with a smile before turning and heading for the stairs down. "Now, let's go deal with some Orcs!"

"Not so loud, please," muttered Aventus, lifting his hands and drawing his black hood up over his face as he headed out with the two girls.


	11. Chapter 11

Nothing had attacked the trio. Absolutely nothing. They had stumbled upon some deer roaming wild, and Leola had accidentally startled a little red fox as she walked along, but nothing more had come near them. The stronghold, Narzulbur, was visible ahead of them, and Leola could already make out the forms of men and women guarding the fort. Some stood atop the walls and battlements, and she bit her lip nervously.

"Hello?" called out Erith as they came within earshot, presumably so that the Orcs wouldn't attack them upon sight. The greenish beings turned their heads, looking towards the trio as Leola saw Aventus cringe out of the corner of her eye.

"Who are you?" growled one of the Orcs, a light green-skinned woman clad fully in armour, with dark hair drawn back from her face.

"Look, my name is Erith, and these are my friends Leola and Aventus," said the Breton. "We've come to ask something important of you."

"Beat it," grunted one of the male Orcs. "Your kind aren't welcome here. Orsimer only."

"Leola here is the daughter of the Dragonborn," Erith said, and the female Orc's harsh expression softened.

"Is she?" she asked, and the male Orc shot her a glare.

"That doesn't change anything," he said.

"It's important," said Erith. "We need to somehow communicate with Malacath."

"Open the gate," said the female Orc sharply, looking down at someone behind the wall who, presumably, had that ability.

"Don't," snarled the male.

"Mol, this is important," said the female. "I know you never met the Dragonborn, but I did. We need to see what these humans need."

The male, Mol, grunted again and looked away, though Leola was certain she spotted a dramatic roll of his eyes. The gates swung open and the female Orc disappeared from sight, appearing a moment later beside the gates.

"My apologies," she said as the trio approached. "Mol is very hostile towards outsiders – and he never met your mother." The woman gave Leola a somewhat fanged smile with the large, sharp teeth protruding from her underbite, and Leola shyly smiled back.

"Thank you," said Erith. "This is very important."

"I'm sure it is," came a male voice from behind the woman. The three looked up and saw a male Orc approaching. This one's skin was more of a brownish colour, and he wore leather armour. "If it wasn't, you wouldn't have come here."

"This is our Chief, Dushnamub," said the woman with a smile.

"Thank you, Ulumpha, I can take these three from here," said Dushnamub, and the woman, Ulumpha, nodded before returning to her place atop the wall.

"Chief Dushnamub, thank you for letting us speak with you," said Erith.

"What do you want?" he asked, and Leola was amazed by how bluntly the Orcs spoke.

"As I'm sure you heard, the Dragonborn recently passed away," said Erith.

"Yes, I heard," said Dushnamub, and then looked at Leola. "My condolences. Your mother was an excellent woman."

"You knew her?" Leola asked softly, and the Chief nodded.

"Yes, I did," he replied. "She did a great favour for our brothers and sisters near Riften, and for that she was known among our kind as an honorary Orsimer, as well as our Lord Malacath's champion."

"That's what we're here about," Aventus said quickly. "Leola has inherited her mother's estate and belongings, and with it, the artifacts bestowed upon her by the Daedric princes."

"We're looking to speak with them and see what they would have us do with their items, and we came here hoping you could allow us to speak with Malacath," Erith finished, smirking slightly over at Aventus.

A surprised look came across Dushnamub's hideous face at hearing what the two said. "You have Volendrung?"

"Yes," answered Erith softly.

The Chief paused, clearly thinking for a moment, before turning. "Come," he said, heading towards a house. The trio followed him, all able to sense the suspicious looks being shot their way by the various Orcs who went about their business all around.

"Ignore them," Aventus whispered in Leola's ear gently.

The Orc opened a door and motioned for the three to enter. Erith went first, followed by Leola and then Aventus, who was then in turn followed by the Chief. Sitting by a fireplace inside was an elderly Orsimer woman, with brownish-green skin, very little white hair atop her head, and a simple blue dress. Her face was covered in wrinkles and she barely looked able to move, settled comfortably in her chair and gazing into the flickering flames.

"This is my great-aunt, Bolar," said Dushnamub. At hearing his words, the woman turned her head, looking curiously at the trio.

"More outsiders," she murmured thoughtfully.

"Bolar, these are Erith, Leola, and Aventus," said the Chief, and Leola had to admit that she was impressed with his ability to remember the names they had shouted up to the woman, Ulumpha, before. "Leola is the daughter of the Dragonborn, and they possess Volendrung and wish to know what our Father would have them do with it."

"Ah," said Bolar, but she said nothing further. Dushnamub was silent, looking expectantly towards his great-aunt for a few long moments before glancing curiously towards the humans. Erith shrugged slightly.

"Do you know what we should do?" the Chief asked the elderly woman.

"They must take the hammer to Largashbur in a fortnight," Bolar said, a certain sternness in her voice. "Gularzob will take it to Malacath's shrine in the Rift."

Dushnamub shifted his gaze towards the trio, and Erith nodded.

"We can do that," she said softly. "We can do that…is that what Malacath wants?"

"It is what Malacath will want," answered Bolar. "It must be kept safe in his grasps until a new champion is found."

"Thank you," Leola said in a soft voice. The elderly woman looked towards the blonde, smiling as warmly as she could with her large teeth sticking out from her underbite.

"You are lovely, Leola," she said kindly. "You are certainly your mother's daughter."

A flush came to the Nord's cheeks and she smiled back. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Would you excuse us a moment?" Bolar asked, looking towards the Chief and then to Leola's companions.

Dushnamub didn't hesitate to obey, simply nodded and opened the door. His gaze fell upon Erith and Aventus, clearly waiting for them to follow after him.

"It's okay," Leola said to the two, both of whom were giving her a concerned look.

"Alright," Erith said as Aventus turned and headed for the door. "We'll be outside." With that, she followed, and within moments, Leola was alone by the fire with the elderly Orc.

"I need you to listen well, love," said Bolar, reaching out and gently grasping Leola's hand. The Orc woman's skin was surprisingly warm for a green creature. "You must not resent your mother for all the things she left unsaid. She was a good woman. She helped people, she protected people, and she saved people. Anything she neglected to tell you was meant to protect you."

"I know," Leola mumbled.

"Stop digging," Bolar said sternly. "If you keep searching for the truth, you will only end up finding trouble. Remember your mother for her goodness and her heart, and search not for her flaws and mistakes."

The blonde hung her head slightly, a handful of loose blonde curls falling in her face. "I know," she said in a soft voice.

"Good," said the elderly Orc, smiling up at her. "Now, go back with your friends. Our kind do not take kindly to outsiders and I am sure that your presence is making our people twitch in their armour."

Leola giggled a bit, nodding. "Okay," she said softly. "Thank you."

With that, the Nord turned and left the small house, leaving behind the elderly woman seated in front of the fire.


	12. Chapter 12

"So, Leola, where did you go today?"

Leola looked up the table at Ulfric, who had a tankard of mead in hand and his blue eyes focused on the young blonde. She bit her lip slightly before smiling.

"Just out. Went to get some fresh air, to spend some time in nature…it's been hard spending all my time cooped up in the city, but I can't fight, so I didn't want to go out alone," she lied. She hated lying to Ulfric after all he had done for her, but she didn't want him to find out about the Daedric artifacts – he would almost certainly confiscate them all, and perhaps even revoke all the honours her mother had been given.

"Ah," said the King with a nod. "I understand. It can be dull in the city."

"Yes, Erith and Aventus offered to take me out. We didn't go far, just wandered around in the woods near here," she said.

"You didn't encounter any troubles I trust?" he asked.

"Nothing at all," she answered. "I did give a fox quite the fright though."

A hearty laugh left Ulfric's mouth and he gave a nod. "I'm sure you would," he said. "Little things never seem to notice you until you're close enough to scare them, but not quite close enough to snag them."

"Well, I wouldn't know about that," Leola said, lifting one hand to brush a lock of blonde hair from her face. She took another bite of her venison chops, her gaze falling briefly to the meat so that she could cut it cleanly before she looked back up at Ulfric.

"Have you thought further at all about where you intend on staying?" he asked, smiling. "Are you thinking about moving into Hjerim? Or perhaps staying here…?"

Leola gave a light shrug. "I haven't really thought about it yet," she said. "I'm still working my way through my mother's things, I'd rather wait until I have that sorted out before I think about moving in."

"Have you encountered something troublesome?" he asked, a frown coming to his lips.

"No, no," she said quickly. "It's just a lot of work, getting everything appraised and figuring out what to do with it."

"If you come across a large iron axe," said Ulfric suddenly, "it's probably mine."

"My mother had your axe?" Leola asked curiously.

"The Axe of Eastmarch," Ulfric said. "I gave it to her when she became Thane of Eastmarch. I've been unable to give the current thane such a token, as it does belong to the thane. If you find it, we must give it to Torbjorn."

"Of course," Leola said, smiling. "I'm sure I'll stumble upon it sooner or later."

"Thank you, Leola," Ulfric said with a grin as he looked at her. "You're an excellent young woman, you know. Your mother would be proud of you."

"I hope that she would," Leola replied in a soft voice. "I wish she would have told me all these things I didn't know…"

"I'm sure that she only wanted to protect you," Ulfric said. "Her life was a dangerous one. There were many times I was certain she wouldn't come back. I was not surprised when she disappeared – I thought her dead, as did most."

"Well," Leola said softly, "at least now you know that she wasn't."

"I wish I had known sooner," Ulfric said, shaking his head. "I would have come and brought you both here. I would have married her and made her my Queen."

"And I would be a princess," Leola said with a giggle, and Ulfric laughed.

"You still are a princess," he said with a smile. "Like I said, the only women who would have married me are dead or married."

"Who?" Leola asked in a soft voice. "Who is this married woman who would have married you if you got to her first?"

"Hermir Strong-Heart, a Nord woman here in Windhelm," he said slowly. "A blacksmith. She's married now to the other blacksmith, Oengul – they've got a couple of kids and they make armour and weapons together now." He paused thoughtfully. "I'd say her two are your age – twins, too."

"Wow," Leola said softly. "I've met her in town, I wouldn't have thought…"

"Your mother used to give me a hard time about the things this woman would say," Ulfric said with a laugh. "Nothing but praise for me, apparently. Loved working here in Windhelm where she could, as your mother quoted her, 'see me up close'. Kind of creepy, but still a viable candidate for marriage."

"Why did she marry Oengul?" Leola asked softly.

"Hmm… I believe it was around the time that the rumours about your mother and I started to circulate – I suppose she gave up on her dream of ever having me, and she settled. He's quite a deal older than she is – I'm amazed he's still running that place." Ulfric shook his head slightly, smiling. "Best steel in all of Skyrim though, that's for sure. Yes, I believe they got married a few months after the Battle for Solitude…and their twins were born around the time your mother disappeared, so they'd be a matter of months older than you."

Leola nodded curiously as she heard him. "I should see if I can find them next time I'm in town then," she said.

"Yes, you should," he agreed. "Two girls…hmm…I believe the names are Agatar and Merinna. Yes, that's it."

Leola paused, thinking for a moment, but shook her head. "No, I don't know them," she said.

"I'm not sure what they do, else I could tell you where you might look. Just ask their parents though, I'm sure they'd be happy to know that you're looking to be friends with their girls," he replied with a smile. "How's your supper?"

"It's delicious," Leola answered, realizing she'd been so caught up in her conversation with Ulfric that she'd completely forgotten to eat her meat. She quickly cut off another chunk, sticking it in her mouth.

She loved these evening suppers with Ulfric. Galmar was often with them, but he was out and about this evening, so it was just Leola and the King. Ulfric would have been an excellent father, she figured – he was kind and gentle, and it seemed he genuinely cared about her. The fact that he had once had feelings for her mother made it an even more exciting idea – but alas, Ulfric wasn't her father. There were some moments that she wished he was. In this moment, sitting by him at the table, talking and eating the way she always imagined doing with her father, she certainly wished it were so.

She took another bite of her meat, and Ulfric took a long drink of his mead. There was a minute or so of silence before Leola broke it.

"Did you love my mother?" she asked in a soft voice.

Ulfric closed his eyes, lowering the tankard to the table with a light thunk. "I most certainly did," he replied. "Not a day goes by that I don't miss her. I wish I had been a part of your life. I wish I could have been there for the both of you."

"I wish you were my father, Ulfric," Leola said to him in a soft voice. "I really do."

There was silence from the King. His blue eyes were shut and his head was turned downwards. He appeared unsure what to say, and Leola just smiled before taking another bite.

The palace doors suddenly flew open and a loud gust of icy wind came bursting in from outside. The pair looked up from their meals, seeing a man as he came striding in, the heavy doors swinging shut behind him. He was an Imperial with dark, grey-speckled hair and golden mage robes, and he smiled slightly as he neared them. There was an interested look in his eyes as they fell briefly upon Leola before looking towards Ulfric.

"Jarl Stormcloak," he said politely. "My name is Marcurio, and I've come to speak with the Dragonborn's daughter."

Ulfric raised an eyebrow, standing up from his seat so that he could properly address this newcomer. "Welcome…may I ask why?" he asked.

"Well…" The Imperial man paused slightly, his dark eyes falling briefly to the ground before looking once again towards Leola. "Her mother and I were lovers. She's my daughter."


End file.
